Ceteris Paribus
by Seien24
Summary: Set at the start of the Third Cybertronian War. Starscream is next in line for the rank of Air Commander. He also has a habit of foolhardiness, cowardice, opportunism - and plain getting caught up in all the wrong situations. SLASH Optimus/Starscream
1. Chapter 1

**Name:** Ceteris Paribus

**Rating:** NC-17 (G for this chapter)

**Pairing:** Optimus Prime/Starscream

**Summary:** Set just as the wheels of the Third Cybertronian War begin turning. Optimus Prime has had his title only for a few hundred years, whilst within the opposing party a scientist-turned-Seeker named Starscream is clawing his way up the ranks, next in line for the post of Air Commander of the Royal Decepticon Air Force. However, said jet has a habit of foolhardiness, cowardice, opportunism - and plain getting caught up in all the wrong situations.

**Author's Notes:** "Ceteris Paribus" is an economic term meaning "with all other conditions remaining the same.". It was chosen in irony. Also, many thanks to GreyDrake, Moglenstar, James and _especially_ the tireless Okamichan for their invaluable beta-reading!

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On Cybertron, it seemed sometimes as though the rain fell at the most inopportune moments. To Starscream, it felt as though it were now falling specifically to spite him. If only the battle hadn't occurred that day: if only that fool Skywarp could shoot straight, or if he, Starscream, had seen the laserfire before it hit him. If he had not been hit that crushing second time as he fell - accursed Autobot filth, he added to himself - or if, if _only _the rain hadn't started falling. He grimaced in anger and frustration, and then – as the hated acid rain began to interfere with his systems – in pain, and suppressed fear.

Starscream was a coward by nature, no matter what he liked to think. He was stranded out in Autobot territory, grounded by that ill-fated hit between his wings, preventing him from transforming, and the damage to his fuel lines wasn't patching properly. Warm energon was flowing down his back, between his scorched wings, sickly and unstopping. And now his systems were being cut altogether. He tried to pretend he wasn't, but Starscream was absolutely terrified.

-----------------------

At the first signs of rain, Hound radioed back to base.

"Hey, Prowl, it's getting cloudy out here."

There was a moment's delay before the tactician responded.

"Understood. Report back to Iacon headquarters."

The Autobot glanced at the sky, intending to turn, leave patrol and transform, and get back to Iacon before the rain started.

"There's not gonna be any Decepticreeps around now anyway, nobody goes outside in the bad weath-- huh?"

A pause. "What on Cybertron?"

He was cut off, astonished, by the sight of a Decepticon seeker stumbling on foot, its wings scorched and twisted, not a hundred astrometers from where he stood. He brought his weapons online. Prowl's measured voice cut through on his radio systems again, keeping him firmly in the present moment.

"Hound? Is something happening?"

Hound saw then the trail of energon leaking down from the jet's back. He kept his weapons running, just in case.

"Yeah, I, uh-- aww, _slag_."

With a deceptively gentle pattering, the acid rain began to fall. Hound hesitated for an astrosecond, disconcerted, and winced as the rain seeped into his circuitry. He looked up curiously at the place where the Seeker had been; he saw that the jet had fallen to his knees, and then on his face. No tricks here - no Seeker would pull such an ungraceful, belittling deceit, they were too vain, too self-conscious. The Seeker's armour sparked ominously, his already weakened defences serving only as a hindrance in the ruinous weather. Granted, the thing was a Decepticon, but if he left the defenceless Seeker out in the rain, it would without doubt be rendered inoperational within a couple of cycles, if not before then due to the Energon haemorrhaging from between its wings.

He felt uneasy, wished he had more time to examine the Seeker, check out the situation - but with this rain there was no time for that. It took Hound barely a few astroseconds to make up his mind; he grabbed the jet, hoisting it over his shoulder, and unable to transform with the added burden simply ran flat out for cover. He had been patrolling the perimeter of the walled city, and the closest entrace was perhaps eight hundred astrometers away. Hound made it through that gate and inside in less than half a breem. He doubted he had ever run so fast outside of a battle.

Starscream had fallen unconscious and collapsed, his CPUs going into standby in an attempt to remedy the effects of the fuel loss, so he did not register the Autobot lifting him into the air, the lights of Iacon replacing the darkness of Cybertron outside, or the rain no longer assailing his circuitry. Hound shifted the Seeker's weight on his shoulder, gasping for breath and waiting a breem or so for his internal maintenance to counter the effects of the rain, cycling coolant, leaning against the inside of the gate until the pain subsided and he felt safe to move again.

He straightened up and made his way to the infirmary; the slow pit-pat of the jet's Energon dripping on the floor sounding to Hound almost unbearably loud. He could feel the jet was heavier than he should have been, a completely dead weight, that his systems were almost inaudibly quiet. Hound earned himself several disapproving stares before he reached the medbay, and by the time he arrived he almost wished he'd left the thing out in the rain; it was hardly in the spirit of the war that a Decepticon should be brought inside the walls of Iacon, offered assistance - but he knew of course that he could not have left him to die. He didn't know what the jet had done to find himself out there in such a state, and after all, would Prime have done any less? Thus he justified his actions to himself, and stopped outside the door of the infirmary, knocking urgently.

Ratchet opened the door, mouth open, ready to yell, but fell into a stunned silence at the sight before him. It didn't keep him quiet for long.

"Hound?! What the blazes is going on?"

Faced with the intimidating medic, Hound faltered.

"Well, uh, it was raining outside-"

"That's a Decepticon!"

"Well, yeah, but he's damaged and it was raining and I didn't have much time and it didn't seem right to just leave him there!"

Ratchet looked at him dourly, narrowing his optics, knowing he had no choice but to help now that he was confronted with the dying Seeker.

"What were you _thinking_, bringing that in here? Haven't you realised we're in a war? That thing is the enemy. The Decepticons have their _own_ medics to deal with their casualties."

"He was alone outside, and he was damaged, and it was raining. There wasn't anybody else."

Ratchet grumbled sourly, turning and walking away from the medbay door, implicitly allowing Hound inside. Breathing a sigh of relief that the medic had not continued to glower and lecture him, he hauled the Seeker inside, laying him down on one of the empty tables and turning away to leave. Behind him he heard Ratchet grousing and tutting over the state of the Seeker, going to work to fix him up, and the exhausted Hound made his way out of the medbay to recharge until his next shift began.

-----------------------

Weary and silently frustrated, Ratchet made his way from the medbay up to Optimus Prime's office. The Autobot leader was sitting upright, optics fixed upon a datapad, which he set down as Ratchet knocked and entered.

"Ratchet. What can I do for you?"

Prime's voice was mellow and calming, and Ratchet felt his irritation ease up just slightly in anticipation of a solution to his problems.

"Optimus. I have an offlined Decepticon in the medbay."

Optimus' optics widened in astonishment; whatever he might have been expecting Ratchet to tell him, it was clearly not that.

"What do you mean?"

Ratchet sighed wearily.

"Hound found a damaged Seeker collapsed outside Iacon as the rain was starting, and the fool brought him inside and dragged him up to my infirmary."

The medic spread his hands. "I couldn't turn him away with it dying in his arms, but... well, it's in there. I checked it for bugs and other traps before I did anything, of course - it's completely clean. Its wings and transformation circuits were badly damaged and one of its main fuel lines was ruptured."

He listed off the injuries categorically.

Optimus said nothing for a few hundred astroseconds, deep in thought.

"It won't compromise our safety here? You're certain?"

"Yes. And in any case, I had to anaesthetise his sensor net, and disconnect parts of his CPU - amongst others, his optics and most of the mechanism around his canopy - in case there was any static or discharge damage while I worked on the damaged circuitry. I have not reconnected them yet, as a precaution both for him and for us."

Prime nodded.

"Good job, Ratchet. You made the right decision."

Ratchet said nothing, his face remaining set in its customary scowl, but inside he felt somewhat relieved. As with every Autobot, his respect for Optimus was automatic, born of several hundred years' experience. He trusted Prime's decisions. Since the end of the Golden Age of Cybertron, when Optimus had taken on the mantle of leader - that savage ending to the peace time and start of Cybertron's third civil war, barely five-hundred years previous, that in hindsight seemed inevitable - Prime had been an unerring force of assurance. A source of hope and trust for all those under his command, those displaced from their precious cease-fire-turned-Enlightenment.

"Is that all?" Optimus added.

"Yes, that's all. I'm going to recharge now, if that's all right," said Ratchet. "I'm exhausted."

Prime's gentle optics were all that was visible of his face, giving him a serious, impassive look. His voice was the only thing about him that conveyed a smile.

"You go, Ratchet. Don't worry, I'll take care of it. Stay in good health."

Not quite sure of whether by "it" Prime meant the Seeker or the situation, Ratchet left the office and set off for his quarters. The fatigue was really starting to set in now that he was no longer focussed on working, his reticent fears about the Seeker abated in the face of Optimus' confident reassurance.

Several joors later, after he had finished reading the interminable reports and memos, Optimus decided it was time to check on Ratchet's Seeker.

-----------------------

Starscream awoke to total blackness. He felt numb, sluggish and confused, and turned on his night-vision in an attempt to see through the darkness. When the capability didn't even engage behind his optics, a panic gripped him. He tried again and again, growing more and more frantic with each failed attempt. As it slowly dawned on him that his optics weren't working at all, a cold panic began to curl around his spark. He knew he was lying on a flat surface, and from what he could tell of the air pressure he was indoors. His sensor net was slow, but what he could feel ached a little. Indoors, anaesthetised, and blind. It could have only one result: a deep, cutting claustrophobia that ran through him like liquid nitrogen. The inescapable blackness where his optic feed should have been relaying seemed impenetrable and suffocating, like a smog, now that he knew he had no way of alleviating it. His joints locked up in terror and he could almost feel the crushing weight of the invisible walls around him; completely overcome, in the absence of sight, by the power of his own imagination.

At that moment, Optimus Prime walked through the door to the medbay. The Autobot leader took a moment to recalibrate his optics for the dim light, and then closed the door and looked around the room. He quickly spotted the Seeker prone on the exam table. Even though his optics were switched off, it seemed that the jet was unfortunately awake. Prime called out softly, to alert the jet to his presence.

"Hello. Are you awake?" He said, and the other mech froze. It became apparent that something was wrong. The Seeker's hands were splayed flat on the surface of the table, and his entire body was stiff and trembling; he was even whimpering softly, barely audible, his expression contorted into a mask of abject terror.

"What's the matter?" Optimus couldn't help but be concerned.

"Wh-what happened? Where am I? What's wrong with my optics?!"

Optimus sorted the barrage of questions and answered them in order of importance, trying to talk soothingly to the jet, to comfort him.

"I am Optimus Prime, the leader of the Autobots. You are in Iacon, in the infirmary. You were severely damaged, and were brought here for medical attention."

At the mention of Prime's faction, the Seeker recoiled slightly.

"What did you do to me!?" He cried. "Don't terminate me!"

"No, we don't intend any harm." Prime assured. "You're quite safe."

The jet was trembling. Prime sighed, wondering how best to approach this situation.

"You were damaged in battle, and caught in the rain. One of my soldiers found you outside and took you to our medic. You were in a bad way; I doubt he intended for you to come online before he had finished his repairs. Please don't be frightened - you are not our prisoner, and we will not hurt you."

The jet didn't look very reassured, although this seemed more due to an invisible distraction than to mistrust. Prime bent over him, irrepressibly concerned.

"What's wrong? Are you in pain?"

The Seeker jutted his jaw out and said nothing. Confronted with his insurmountable stubbornness, Optimus tried a different tactic.

"What's your name?"

The jet sneered, a tone and expression that seemed more consciously called up from habit to mask the more instinctive fear on his face.

"Why should I tell you, Autobot?"

"Well, we are talking. You know my name, I may as well know yours." He made sure to sound friendly, to iron every bit of potential hostility from his voice. The jet was still shaking. There was a long, long pause, before he finally spoke.

"Take me outside."

Optimus sighed.

"It's still raining. And in any case, you're not fully functional yet. You can't possibly think to fly anywhere like that, even in clear weather."

The Seeker's response surprised Prime, not only because his voice dropped down to barely more than a whisper but also with his sudden tone of defeated pleading, completely absent from his voice before.

"Please, take me outside, I can't stand it in here."

Starscream had been trying so hard not to give in, not to beg, not to tell the Autobot leader anything that might amount to a weakness on his part, but in the end he caved in. The fear became too suffocating for him to continue to say nothing.

Optimus realised suddenly the source of the Seeker's unease. Thinking to distract him, he put a hand out and touched the flier on the shoulder lightly, reassuringly. He looked shocked and pulled away, startled into movement by Prime's daring move.

"Don't touch me!"

Prime let go, but sat down on the edge of the exam table.

"Does it hurt?"

The Seeker said nothing, and Optimus kept his hands to himself.

"There's no need to be scared," Prime reiterated. "You'll come to no harm here. You will be repaired later, and you can go then." He hoped that the promises of freedom would distract the frightened Seeker from his enclosed predicament now.

"That sounds altogether too good to be true, Prime." The Seeker snapped. "What aren't you telling me?"

Optimus laughed. He couldn't help it.

"There's nothing I'm not telling you. You expect us to hold you here?"

"I expect you to act as though you are in a war." His tone was arrogant, contemptuous. "It is no longer the Golden Age."

Prime sighed heavily - the Seeker's words lay far heavier on him than perhaps they were meant to.

"What is your name?" He asked again, after a long silence. Perhaps it was the sadness in his tone or something else entirely, but this time the jet did not refuse right away. Optimus said nothing, letting him work out whatever he wanted to.

"I'll tell you," the Seeker offered. "If you take me outside."

"I will not," replied Optimus. "I cannot let you leave this medbay in your current condition. It's for the best."

"Then I shan't tell you my name." The Seeker snapped back.

Optimus nodded, even though he knew his interlocutor couldn't see him. The jet's tone was so final that it marked the abrupt end of their exchange. Optimus let the silence hang - if the Seeker didn't want to talk, he wouldn't make him talk. He had turned his face to one side, away from Optimus, sulking determinedly for all the world like a miffed Sparkling; it was only the trembling in his hands and his wings that betrayed his distress. Optimus Prime sighed resignedly. The Decepticon wasn't setting bombs and devices around the mebay, and nor was he in any great danger. Apart from the claustrophobia, he seemed positively healthy. With no especial desire to spend his whole evening looking at a huffy Seeker, Prime got to his feet and walked across the medbay to the door.

Starscream had made up his mind to simply stay quiet and sulk for a while, but suddenly the warm presence at his side disappeared and he heard heavy footsteps moving across the room away from him. He spiralled almost instantly into a diatribe of worry that became fear that turned into another suffocating panic. _He's leaving me,_ Starscream thought to himself, _I'm stuck in the middle of the Autobot base and I'm blind and powerless and unprotected and at least this one can be manipulated and reasoned with and he's leaving me and it's cold and everything's invisible and I'm lost and alone and--_

"NO!"

Optimus stopped in his tracks, shocked by the hysteria and terror in the Seeker's voice. The jet had half sat up, turned toward Optimus, hand outstretched to the sound of the receding footsteps. The Autobot leader turned, walked back.

"No?" He enquired.

"Don't leave me here!" Cried the Seeker, more of a command than a plea, but that mask of terror had settled on the jet's face again. Optimus sighed and sat down on the table again. The jet relaxed quite visibly when he did so, expression melting a little, panic abating.

"I'll stay," promised Optimus.

The Seeker said nothing.

-----------------------

Starscream must have offlined at some point, because he awoke to find that Optimus Prime had left him. After this short period of recharge - his internal chronometer was offline but it couldn't have been very long as he was still in the same poor state of repair and still alone in the medbay - Starscream's plan was clear as crystal in his mind. He squashed his apprehension beneath the far greater fear of remaining alone in that accursed room, steeled himself and sat up. His gyros span but he gripped the sides of the examination table on which he lay and overrode them. He knew which way was down.

He slipped lightly off the table, wincing at the loud clang as his thrusters hit the floor, and reached out for the wall he knew must be there somewhere. After a few hundred astroseconds of groping, his hand hit glass. He breathed a sigh of relief and experimentally tried powering up his weapons. Nothing came - that wasn't a surprise. Starscream didn't believe a word of what Prime had said about his not being the Autobots' prisoner. He knew the Autobots were stupid, but nobody was that stupid. He moved without thinking, pulling his arm back and letting fly a blow at the glass, expecting the worst - failure.

The worst never came. The glass shattered beneath his hand, and spurred on by his success he all but threw himself at the glass, beating a hole in the wall and then hurling himself out of it. He hadn't thought to care about whether he was near or far from the ground. He was a flier, after all. However, this oversight proved ruinous as he went into free-fall and too late discovered they had taken his thrusters offline.

"M-my thrusters--!" He gasped, horror overriding even the ability to scream, and then had no more time to gather himself: he hit the ground so hard his cockpit shattered. He lay there, whimpering softly, concussed and stunned.

Everything hurt. Those wounds that had merely been patched and not fixed had ripped open again, adding to the numb pain of the impact. But he forced himself to his feet, wincing as he heard - _felt_ - splinters of canopy simply fall out and clatter on the ground, and began to walk. If he could get close enough to Decepticon Headquarters, well - they sent jets out all the time. Someone was bound to spot him and take him back. He was too useful for them to simply leave him, he reminded himself - he was in line for a promotion to Air Commander. In the meantime, he had to keep moving, get away from his captors.

The first thing that Ratchet did on entering his medbay was to stop dead in the his tracks, staring at the shattered hole in the wall.

-----------------------

"So I'll need the medbay wall patched before the next battle when I will need to use it, and we need to send someone out to get that Seeker back in case he's taken anything!"

Ratchet finished insistently, leaning across the table to Prime in the conference chambers. Prowl coughed lightly and took out his datapad.

"I would recommend sending Jazz after the Seeker, accompanied by at least one minibot, preferably Brawn, in case of trouble." Said the tactician. "Jazz has the optimum combination of skill, speed and guile for the job. Based on Ratchet's medical reports on the Seeker - and if there are no complications - he has a 92.7 success rate of retrieving the Seeker and bringing him back to Iacon."

Jazz grinned at Prowl, who regarded him back and then went back to his datapads.

"No." Optimus rose to his feet, commanding the attention of the room. "I will go after the Seeker."

Prowl looked up again, his eyes fixed on the Autobot leader.

"Permission to speak freely, Optimus, if you go to retrieve the Seeker you will have only a 69.29 chance of succeeding. Jazz is the best soldier to send."

"That Seeker may not be entirely stable." Prime said diplomatically - although he personally suspected that it had been only the claustrophobia that had upset the flier at the time. "I have spoken with him, and he trusts me far more than he trusts anyone else here. It would be better if I retrieve him."

"But Optimus-!" cried the tactician.

"I will not put my soldiers in needless danger, Prowl." Optimus spoke firmly to his second-in-command in a tone that left no room for argument. Prowl pressed his lip components together and said nothing.

Prime sat down, leaned back in his chair.

"Then it's decided," he said, "I will go and retrieve the Seeker. I will return within an orn."


	2. Chapter 2

**Name:** Ceteris Paribus

**Rating:** NC-17 (PG for graphic injury for this chapter)

**Pairing:** Optimus Prime/Starscream

**Summary:** Set just as the wheels of the Third Cybertronian War begin turning. Optimus Prime has had his title only for a few hundred years, whilst within the opposing party a scientist-turned-Seeker named Starscream is clawing his way up the ranks, next in line for the post of Air Commander of the Royal Decepticon Air Force. However, said jet has a habit of foolhardiness, cowardice, opportunism - and plain getting caught up in all the wrong situations.

**Author's Notes:** Thankyou to Juujinkan for her beta-reading, and probably to Okamichan too... although in the five months since I uploaded the first chapter I can't remember who's beta'd this for me. ...I'm really sorry guys. ;; I got caught up in college and everything just got too much. I'm going to try really, really hard to update more regularly now! I promise! Forgive me? 3

--

In fact, it had taken Prime a further breem or two to get out of Iacon. Prowl had cornered and followed him as he left, plaguing the Autobot leader with questions and objections.

"Optimus, it would be advisable for you to take backup with you."

"There is no need to worry, Prowl." Optimus assured the tactician. "The Seeker is far too damaged to pose any kind of a danger, and besides, Ratchet has deactivated his laser rifles."

"And if the Decepticons attack you?" Prowl had persisted, narrowing his optics slightly. He had no desire to call Prime's admirable skills in combat into question, but the Seekers were fast and utterly merciless. Even for a fighter so consistently successful as Optimus, the Autobot leader was essentially averse to violence. The same could not be said of those Seekers. A lone Autobot in the middle of the dead outreaches of Iacon would attract them like, well, like ruthless Seekers to a lone Autobot in the dead outreaches of Iacon - since, Prowl thought to himself, that is in fact _precisely_ what they were.

"It is not like Megatron to dedicate his forces to helping his own injured." replied Optimus curtly. "Even if he did send one or two, I can hold them off for long enough to call out backup."

Prowl fell back, knowing there was no good way to dissuade his leader and highly reluctant to doubt him.

"Be careful, Optimus." he said soberly.

Optimus Prime assured his second-in-command that he would come to no harm, transformed and rumbled out of Iacon and the tactician stood to watch him leave before turning and walking back inside, wanting to return to his duties as quickly as possible.

--

Prime eventually found the Seeker no less than 20 astromiles from Iacon. It had been disturbingly easy to find him; there was a trail of energon and broken glass leading all the way from Iacon to where the jet had eventually collapsed. By the time Optimus spotted the prone red-and-silver form he was genuinely fearing for the Seeker's life. The jet's actual condition was not encouraging. He was sprawled on his face, energon trickling unpleasantly from the damage on his back where Ratchet's unfinished patch over his fuel line had been torn off. Every so often the silver wingtips trembled; the only indication other than the still-vibrant colours that the Seeker functioned at all. Optimus inwardly marveled at the Decepticon's sheer determination and persistence, considering his frightening level of disrepair - had it been any other Transformer it would have been astonishing to make it half this distance.

Optimus transformed and hurried to the Seeker's side, kneeling down. He ran his hand over one bright red strake and a shudder ran through the Decepticon's body. He was so delicate, Optimus thought, even more fragile here, collapsed on the dull, bluish metal ground of Cybertron, than when he was cowering in fear in the infirmary. Optimus recalled when the plating of Cybertron's surface had positively shone, back before the war, before the energy that gave the planet its once-characteristic luminescence had started to deplete. Looking down at the little jet, lying wrecked on the dying planet's surface, he determined then with as much conviction as he'd ever had that he would not allow this anonymous Seeker to go the same way.

Sliding an arm gingerly around the jet's fuselage, Prime turned him over and held him in his arms. He took a cube of energon from his storage compartment, dripping a few iridescent drops on to the gunmetal of the Decepticon's lips. The fuel ran down into his mouth, and after a few astroseconds that seemed to stretch out forever the jet's systems came online with a click-whirr of memory banks. A soft mewl escaped those slightly parted lips, and Optimus silently drizzled a few more drops of fuel between them. This time the Seeker's glossa swept over his lip components, gathering any remaining traces of energon, and then he spoke.

"Who... are you?"

His vocaliser was crackling, weak, underpowered. It broke his voice up and distorted it with hissing static. By all rights, he should have been terminated and again Optimus marveled at his stubbornness, his refusal to give up.

"I am Optimus Prime, leader of the Autobots. I spoke to you in the infirmary at Iacon. Do you remember me?"

The Seeker's optics narrowed a little in melancholy resignation. "Give me more," he whispered feebly.

Optimus wordlessly acquiesced, allowing the Seeker only a little bit at a time, giving his systems time to adjust and process the fuel. He fed the jet methodically, dripping a little of the warm liquid into his mouth, waiting for him to swallow, and then repeating the process. He never once looked away from the Seeker's fevered face, never once tried to feed him faster or hurry him up, his patience unwavering. They stayed like that for several breems, Optimus kneeling with the Seeker heavy in his arms, and little by little the jet's strength returned. Eventually he shuddered a little and forced his vocaliser back online to speak again.

"So you came to reclaim your prisoner."

The jet chose his words to prick the Autobot, but his tone was resigned. The half-fatalism, half-sneer gave the barb an edge of melancholy. He couldn't see it, but Optimus' optics narrowed sadly.

"Your injuries will terminate you if I don't take you back to Iacon."

Optimus pronounced the word cautiously, distastefully. Termination was not a concept he found he could voice impassively. Unspoken in his offer to return the Seeker to his warlord-leader was exactly what Megatron thought of those soldiers damaged in battle, and how he chose to treat them. The Seeker's expression did not change.

"Why?" he murmured. "Why are you doing this?"

Prime's optics flared. "Any life taken on account of this war is a life taken in vain."

"You are a fool, Prime," the Seeker told him. He was dying.

Optimus Prime was an Autobot, and the Seeker was a Decepticon, and no more needed to be said.

Alone in the barren wilderness of Cybertron's no-man's-land, Optimus gazed down at the jet in his arms. Always mindful of his duty to his faction, he considered regretting chasing after this no-name Seeker, but he immediately dismissed the thought. The Decepticons threatened the liberty of all those who opposed them, disregarded life as a worthless tool to be used up and discarded, and Optimus could not sink to that level. He would grieve even this lone Decepticon in his arms, and could not for a moment imagine leaving him by choice to die. Optimus looked down at the Seeker, examining him with studious optics.

Crimson and white and blue, clearly once meticulously polished from the scarce few unmarked patches, now not only scratched and scuffed but _blistered_ from the acid rain of the previous orn; glass-alloy canopy smashed away, merely a few shards left clinging to its steel housing; ruby optics dull, sheet metal twisted and bent. Optimus felt as though he were moments away from holding a corpse. He stared down at the battered, leaking Decepticon and wondered just how long it would take them both to return to Iacon, and he reflexively tightened his grip on the fallen jet, automatically protective. Surprisingly, the Seeker didn't pull away as it had done before, safe in the infirmary.

The Seeker sighed softly, bitter in defeat, but knowing this was his only chance of survival.

"Typical," he murmured, the slur of his voice casting doubt on his lucidity. "Typical cretinous Autobots. Very well, Optimus Prime. I don't want to die, so let me live."

Optimus nodded, brushing the Decepticon insults away like inconsequential droplets of oil. He straightened up, holding the Seeker firmly in his arms, and set out on the long walk back to Iacon. Behind him, the last of Cybertron's three moons dipped below the horizon, signaling the end of the previous orn.

--

The first moon was high over Iacon by the time Optimus Prime and the Seeker arrived back at the walled city. It had been an excruciatingly long journey, Optimus forced to walk on foot with the Seeker in his arms, having nobody to strap the damaged jet securely into his trailer. Prowl started out of his office the moment his console began beeping; he had ordered Red Alert to inform him the moment Prime returned, and he was anxious to confirm to himself that Optimus' 69.29 chance of success had held out. He rode the elevator down to ground level to greet his commander, invisible tension slipping away when he saw the Autobot Commander without a scratch, with his prize in his arms.

"Optimus. There were no complications?"

"None at all, Prowl. Has Ratchet been put on standby? If this Seeker is to have any hope at all, he will need immediate medical attention."

Prowl's expression did not change, his optics scanning the jet, calculating his chance of survival. His battle computer wasn't expressly set up for such analyses, but it was fairly adept nonetheless. With Ratchet's expertise and help, the little tetrajet stood a 9.1 chance of surviving. Pathetic.

"He took some convincing, Optimus, but Ratchet agreed to complete the repairs he undertook previously. He was less than pleased about the damage to his medbay, however. I would advise taking steps to ensure that nothing of the sort can happen again."

The Autobot Commander agreed, and turned to carry the tetrajet to the medbay. Prowl watched him leave. He didn't like the Decepticon amongst them, but he understood why he had to be. The war was young, and the still-fledgling, still-evolving politics were complex. Not every Decepticon could be said to be inherently evil, nor every Autobot inherently good. It was, Prowl knew, a matter of which side's argument had been the most persuasive at the time. In the end, even though the respective faction's Commanders had their ideals, their lie of their followers' loyalties almost always came down to statecraft. Prowl liked it - a system that thrived on realpolitik rather than ideals and convictions could be deconstructed, understood, and improved upon through reason.

And yet, Prowl knew that Optimus' strongest influence _was_ his convictions. It was because of the Commander's convictions that the Seeker's life was being saved - if it could be saved, which was unlikely - now, and it was because of the effect his ideology had on his followers that the Decepticon hadn't been left to die in the rain in the first place. And the tactician knew that because of those cast-iron principles, Optimus would do all he could to make that 9.1 chance good. He was just fortunate that the tenets he upheld above all else were also convincing in the political arena. Had they not been, Prowl was certain that the Decepticons would already have won.


	3. Chapter 3

**Name:** Ceteris Paribus

**Rating:** NC-17 (G for this chapter)

**Pairing:** Optimus Prime/Starscream, Inferno/Red Alert

**Summary:** Set just as the wheels of the Third Cybertronian War begin turning. Optimus Prime has had his title only for a few hundred years, whilst within the opposing party a scientist-turned-Seeker named Starscream is clawing his way up the ranks, next in line for the post of Air Commander of the Royal Decepticon Air Force. However, said jet has a habit of foolhardiness, cowardice, opportunism - and plain getting caught up in all the wrong situations.

**Author's Notes:** Thanks to Konora for her beta reading 3

--

"I can't understand why they're letting him _go_!"

Red Alert had been like this for a good half a megacycle now. It wasn't much considering some of the more serious breakdowns the young Security Director had had, and Inferno was well used to dealing with them by now.

"I'm sure Optimus knows best, Red..." Inferno murmured soothingly, knowing full well that there was nothing he could say that would actually calm Red Alert, and it was really only the tone of his voice that could do any good at all.

"He wouldn't _listen to me!_ I _told_ him it was a serious security risk, I _told_ him that that Seeker could have done _anything_, anything at all! He-he might have hacked our database, he c-could have downloaded any information from that, he's probably set up bombs all over Iacon City...!!"

"Red, you spent nearly all o'your time trackin' him on the security cameras..."

The pair were in their quarters, Inferno reclining on the recharge plate, Red sitting on the edge of it just by Inferno's hip in a state of severe agitation. He turned to give Inferno a deeply serious stare.

"_I had to recharge sometime, you know_."

Inferno just sighed and reached out to stroke Red Alert's door gently, not pulling back when Red Alert flinched. He knew what Red needed; and sure enough, a few moments later Red Alert was relaxing slightly, leaning a little bit into Inferno's hand.

"I just don't understand why none of them can _see_," he whimpered piteously, looking to Inferno for for confirmation, which Inferno always gave.

"I know, Red, I know," he murmured, keeping up his stroking. "I'm sure it'll be fine, Red - and if it ain't, Optimus'll take care of it."

Red Alert sniffled quietly, staring at the floor now. Inferno's spark went out to him - he knew that Red couldn't help it, and what's more that the poor youngling really _did_ think that there were explosives planted all around the base, that the Decepticon was about to run off and spill their every secret to Megatron. He took in the miserable, frightened look on Red's face and sighed.

"Aww, Red, c'mere..."

Red Alert looked up just in time to see Inferno sitting up, putting his arms around him and pulling him close against his chest. Red Alert whimpered and pressed his face to Inferno's chest, letting his friend hold him tight and close, and Inferno was so _warm_... oh, Inferno always helped, he _always_ made things better.

Gradually Red Alert's shaking subsided and he sank into Inferno's arms, low on energy and afraid and needing the comfort, and Inferno smiled and pressed slow kisses to Red's helm.

"Don' worry, Red, it'll be jus' _fine_."

Red Alert couldn't bring himself to nod, but he buried his face deeper against Inferno's chest and sniffled, and it was good enough.

--

Earlier that cycle Starscream had been released from medical. Ratchet had shut himself up and worked solidly for seven megacycles without so much as pausing, but he had made good on that nine point one per cent chance of survival and eventually unlocked the door to announce wearily that the Seeker was stable and in recharge.

Sure enough, the gruesome condition the Seeker had been in had been completely reversed, and even though his paint wasn't in such great condition the glass in his canopy had been replaced and his wings straightened out, his wounds had been welded over and the energon supply in his systems had been restored. He would live.

Ratchet was uneasy with the idea of others in his medbay with the Decepticon in there, and Optimus Prime had no desire to go in to see him anyway. The Seeker would come out when he was ready, and they would talk then.

When Starscream did awake, he stared up at the ceiling for several seconds, disoriented and knowing that he should be grateful to be alive at all, before speaking without knowing if there was anybody in the room to hear him.

"I want to talk to Optimus Prime."

Ratchet narrowed his optics.

"Don't you talk like that to me, Seeker, or anyone else for that matter."

Starscream didn't respond, glaring up at the ceiling, jaw set and sticking out stubbornly. Ratchet sighed.

"I'll see if Prime's available. Don't move a servo - we can see you on the cameras, Decepticon."

And with that he rose and left, looking for Optimus. With a brief, "the Seeker's asking for you," he led Optimus back to the medbay, and immediately busied himself checking and arranging his tools, not wanting to get involved. Optimus sat down on the side of the examination table, and Starscream sat up to talk this time.

"Optimus Prime. You said you wouldn't keep me prisoner."

He sounded nervous, afraid that Optimus would go back on his promise and keep him captive and grounded.

"That's correct," Optimus affirmed, and Starscream nodded.

"Then I want to leave."

It was a challenge he issued to Optimus, one that hung the air and demanded an answer.

Optimus nodded. "If it's your wish to leave, then... you are free to go."

Prowl was standing outside the open medbay door, a scowl on his face. Behind him was Ironhide - the tactician had borrowed Optimus' bodyguard on the way, hoping that he would back up his case. Prowl's tone was measured as always. "Optimus."

Optimus turned away from Starscream, who frowned, sensing that Prowl was out to confound his plans of escape.

"Prowl, what can I do for you?"

"I'd like to call an impromptu meeting," said the tactician. "Are you engaged?"

"No, no," Optimus replied, getting up with a reassuring glance at Starscream, and following Prowl from the medbay. "That's fine."

--

The three mechs were seated in Optimus Prime's office, Optimus sitting down behind his desk and gesturing to Prowl and Ironhide to take a seat. Prowl sat down graciously, but Ironhide shook his head with a shrug and mumble of "Thanks, Optimus, but I'll stand." Optimus nodded and leaned back, addressing the two of them.

"I presume this is about the Decepticon?"

Prowl took the lead. "Yes, it is. As I suspected, the Seeker wishes to leave Iacon and return to Polyhex. What does surprise me, however, is that you intend to let him - would that be correct?"

Optimus nodded. "I promised him he would not be taken prisoner."

"Be as that may," Prowl said hurriedly, "I'm afraid that it is extremely inadvisable to let him go. It is a distinct disadvantage to return one of the Decepticons' aerial elite to them, given the option of keeping it here."

But he's not just one of the Decepticons' Seekers, Optimus thought to himself. He's an individual, he's a mechanism just like we are. He knew the Seekers had come from Kaon, and he knew that Prowl had been the direct subordinate of Sentinel Prime, and had called the retreat that abandoned Kaon to the Decepticons and... started the war. He sighed. Prowl was a blank slate to an observer. He betrayed nothing.

"I will allow the Seeker to return," Optimus insisted. "This war has done enough damage already - to behave with such a disregard for integrity would make us no better than them."

"This war will do more damage, with all due respect, if we don't fight it."

Prowl privately thought that the best course of action would be to melt the Seeker down for spare parts. He didn't say so. "Optimus Prime, Sir, at least we should be certain that he doesn't have any information of ours to give back to the Decepticons."

Prowl could see the refusal in Optimus' optics before he'd even finished explaining. "I really think it is in our best interests to perform a full memory wipe and return him--"

"No. That is barbaric, Prowl. We are Autobots. We don't employ such methods towards any mechanism, whatever their faction."

"The sooner we get it outta here, the better," Ironhide remarked. "I don' like it bein' around here. Let's just send it packin'."

Optimus sighed. "Prowl. I know how you feel, but... the Seeker will be set free. A promise is a promise, and he's shown no signs of attempting espionage - he's hardly been conscious most of the time."

Prowl's optics dimmed, and he looked down. "Understood, Optimus," he said quietly, disheartened.

Optimus stood, opening the door and holding it for his subordinates. "Prowl," he murmured, as the other one drew even with him. "You're a great tactician. The best I could have. Don't misunderstand me."

Prowl nodded, not smiling - because that would have been superfluous - and not scowling, because he wasn't angry. "Thank you," he remarked instead, merely acknowledging and understanding.

Optimus nodded and made his way back to the medbay.

--

Ratchet had said nothing as Optimus and Ironhide escorted the Seeker - who looked so small in comparison - out of the medbay, to free him from Iacon. The medic only then allowed himself to slump, elbow on the computer console he was working at, cheek in his hand. He sighed. Guilt had been eating him away like a rust from the inside all day, and it was only made worse because he wasn't sure whether he ought to have been guilty or not.

The Seeker was young. He'd been afraid of so many things, of the darkness and the enclosed space of the medbay and even of Ratchet himself; he'd performed the stupidest escape Ratchet had ever seen - Primus, he'd been left to die on the battlefield by his own faction. It made the medic's spark wrench. Such a disregard for young life - for _any_ life - was a blazing shame. He was right, surely, to have reversed that, to have saved his life. It was his job. Life was the only thing he really held dear.

Which was where the problem lay; Ratchet also knew that so long as the Seeker was alive, he would fight the Autobots. In allowing him to live, he might have consigned one of his own friends to death. To a death he couldn't save them from.

The medic's shoulders drooped in despair. The situation was so very morally ambiguous that it hurt him. He didn't know what to do, what he should have done. In saving a life, he condemned others to death. There was no way out.

What was done was done - the Seeker was alive and well, and going home. But he couldn't tell if that was an act of evil on his part, or his good deed; he just couldn't tell.

--


End file.
